The Nightmare Before Sherlock
by Londontrio
Summary: The Pumpkin King, Sherlock Holmes, comes across a human called John Watson while wandering in the graveyard. Contains Sherlock/John and Mystrade.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This was originally based on a fill I did for the Sherlock BBC kink meme, here's the link (.?thread=57104996#t57104996) but I filled rather late, so I'm not sure if anyone actually read it, so I posted it here, and even made a few adjustments, such as make it longer etc. Read and review!

Sherlock looked over at Halloween town and sighed. He must have been the most bored individual in this whole place, as far as he could see. How could they all stand it! Day in, day out, it never changed. Everyday, they went over the plans for next Halloween, and they never changed. Every morning, he would wake up, and walk through the town to his brother, the mayor's, estate, and would listen to his mundane chatter about the various components to a successful Halloween, and he would respond by asking him if Dr. Anderson, and Dr. Donavan would like to know about their creation, Gregory Lestrade, getting nightly visits from a very infatuated mayor.

After getting roughly tossed out, he would wonder aimlessly, ignoring passers by, and generally creating havoc wherever he could. Never any change, so dull.

This all changed when he came across a strange sight when wandering in the graveyard. A man. A very much alive, human man. He was wearing brown trousers, a stripy jumper, and a confused expression on his face. In his hand was a suitcase, brown leather. He didn't seem afraid, just curious, but he couldn't leave a human, of all things, to run amok in his town. He crept towards him, graves, and trees opening up a path for him in his wake. When the human noticed him, he dropped his suitcase in shock, fell, and scrambled back.

"You!" Sherlock bellowed. "Human-" The man jumped back, faking to the ground and crawling backwards in his haste to get away from Sherlock.

"You're- you're a skeleton! A walking, talking skeleton!" The man was obviously becoming hysterical, and Sherlock reached down to grab him, but the man pushed his bony hands out of the way, and attempted to sprint back the way he had came. Sherlock gave chase, but not for long, as the man tripped and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Sherlock crept forward, and looked the man over. He was handsome, that was for sure, and Sherlock felt the tugging from what passed for his heart these days at the sight of the man before him. Sherlock noticed the suitcase the man had brought with him, and the wallet that had fallen out of the man's pocket. It read that he was a doctor called John Watson.

"John Watson." Sherlock read, trying the man's name out. It sounded right. He tucked the suite case under his arm, along with the wallet, and picked up John bridal style, taking extra care that he was not harmed as he made his way to the town hall, planning to call a private meeting.

He laid the man on a table in the town hall, and went back to Mycroft's estate. Mycroft opened the door an scowled, already thinking of slamming the door in his face.

"What do want, Sherlock?"

"I spotted a human in the graveyard, go to the town hall in an hour, we need to talk." Mycroft curtly nodded after recovering from the initial shock, and closed the door.

The next stop was Dr. Anderson and Dr. Donavon's lab. "What, do you want, freak?" Sally Donavon grumbled as a greeting to Sherlock.

"I want you and Anderson to see if a human I took to the town hall with me is injured."

"A human?" Donavan asked, drawing the attention of Anderson.

"You brought a human here? Are you mad?" Anderson shouted.

"I didn't bring him here on purpose, he was wondering through the graveyard when I found him. Anyway, are you going to treat him or not?"

"Of course we're going to treat him, miss a chance like this, as if!" Donavan sneered before closing the door, leaving Sherlock to return to the town hall to check up on John Watson.


	2. Chapter 2

John didn't wake up immediately, in fact, it was more slow, as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The first thing he heard made him think it was a dream. It was the talking skeleton, the hallucination, because that's all it could be, right? Yet, it certainly sounds like him, so who else could it be? He was spitting out the words he spoke, eager to show them as much contempt as he felt towards whomever he was speaking with.

"Are you two really the ones who created Lestrade? I find that hard to believe, because the people who did that were not nearly as stupid as you, they just couldn't be."

"Watch it, freak!" A woman shouted, and then the sounds of a man.

"Why did you bring us here, if you doubt our opinions so much?" The man paused, coming over to whatever he was lying on. "He should be awake, and there is nothing to suggest that he won't, it's just a matter of when he decides that he's ready to wake up. The real question is, what do we do when he is awake?"

"I've already put consideration into this. Sherlock, since you found him, he'll live with you-"

"Are you insane? He is the least suitable to look after someone this potentially dangerous, if anything, we should be getting rid of him, not finding him a place to get more information!" It was the woman again, and John felt a trickle of fear run down his spine thinking of just how she might plan on getting rid of him.

"Think of what we could learn from him!" The other man, the one trying to get him to live with 'Sherlock' urged. A door opened, and John could hear footsteps and barely concealed gasps and disapproving grunts from those in room.

"Is this him, then?" It was a new man, this one's voice was slightly gruff, but had a kind and curious undertone, as the stranger seemed to step closer to John. "Who's he going to live with?"

"You shouldn't be here, Lestrade." The man who had come closer earlier was telling the newcomer. "In fact, you shouldn't be out at all."

"I was bored, and can you really blame me? You'd think no one lived in that house from all the dust in it." Lestrade walked away for a moment, before stopping suddenly and coughing awkwardly. "Hello, Mycroft."

"Hello, Lestrade. How are you?"

"Good, a bit boring at that la, as you might expect."

"A shame, you really must come over to my estate at some point, I could-"

"That's enough." It was the girl again, and the pair, Mycroft and Lestrade, stopped, as if they had been caught doing something that they really shouldn't have been. "Lestrade's going nowhere. It's far too soon, he was barely created a year ago." Barely a year ago? He sounded a lot more than a year old. This place was strange, and he had to get out of there.

"Really, Donavan. A year's more than enough time, and it's not as if he's going to be left all on his own in the big wide world, after all, Mycroft-" The skeleton, Sherlock, was abruptly silenced.

"That is none of your concern!" Hissed Mycroft.

"Mycroft!" Lestrade muttered, outraged.

John sat up, intending to leave while they were distracted, but Sherlock spotted him first. It was slightly less horrifying the second time around, though that might just mean that he's getting used to it.

"John!" He exclaimed, and stepped over to him. He was lying on a table in what appeared to be a town hall. Sherlock began gesturing to the other people in the room. "This is Dr. Anderson, and Dr. Donavan, you can ignore just about everything they say." The two of them snarled at Sherlock, whoo, of course, ignored them.

He then pointed to a man carrying an umbrella. "This is Mycroft, my brother and arch nemesis."

He then pointed to- good grief, the man, he looked as if he had been stitched up, his skin a ghastly shade of blue, and his clothes matched, a tattered shirt and jeans, with haphazard stitching here and there, with sometimes new patches where there had obviously not been enough material. "This is Lestrade, he's not as big of an idiot as most of this town, stranger, considering he was created by those two."

John, however, was not listening, and as he fell unconscious for the second time that day, he could only imagine how mad his life gone in just a few short moments.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time John has woken up again, he was already in the apartment that Sherlock stayed in. He awoke to see a woman wearing slightly tattered clothing, and a tall pointed hat, a witches hat. Oh, good grief, he was still there, wherever the was, anyway. The woman, or witch, looked up to him and smiled cheerily, offering what looked suspiciously like tea.

"Oh, you're up, deary. Here you go, drink this, you'll feel so much better, it's my own recipe. Don't get used to it, though. I'm not your housekeeper." When he made no move to grab it, she sighed and left it on the bedside table. "Sherlock! John Watson's up, the poor dear's had a bit of a fright, so don't you make it worse!" She then beside herself with the clutter around the room. John noticed all the human-looking objects, ranging from baseballs, to chairs of just about every kind. Sherlock walked over to him, and John now only felt mild irritation, not entirely the most appropriate emotion to feel when a talking skeleton was holding you agitated your will.

"You're up." Sherlock confirmed. "Why don't we start with a few questions. Are you one of Moriarty's men in disguise?"

"Who the bloody hell is Moriarty?" John asked.

"I'll take that as a no, then, shall I? Next question-"

"Excuse me, but I'll be the one to ask the questions! First off, when exactly do you plan to let me go?"

"Never. We can't let you tell people about us, so that means you're staying here until further notice." Sherlock's calm face made John want to punch something. Hard.

"So this is my life now, is it? Stuck here with you and god knows what else for the next forty years or so? You might as well kill me!" The outburst caused Sherlock to pause, then scowl, as he stepped closer to his, by all accounts, prisoner.

"You would do better if you did not talk about that lightly. Not everyone was as eager to learn bout your world as me. There are others who would kill for the safety of this town, never forget it." John stood down, but glared at Sherlock reproachfully. He had long decided that he was not to be trusted. Sherlock stood up straight, but never lost eye contact with John, eager to show who was in charge. "You have family, yes?"

"Yes." John growled through clenched teeth.

"But their not close?"

"No. Harry wasn't keen on me joining the army. We had a fight, haven't heard from her since." John looked down for a moment, hiding his emotions from his captor.

"We don't have an army here." Sherlock said, almost conversationally. "Do you have a job?"

"No. I was discharged from the army after I was shot-"

"-Shot?" Sherlock interrupted, suddenly fascinated.

"I was shot whilst in the army, in my shoulder."

"Cn I see?" Sherlock asked, reaching towards John, who pulled back.

"I'd rather you didn't undress me at this moment in time."

"Fine, not right now. At least Mycroft doesn't have a lot of loose ends to sew up. You should disappear quite nicely, John. I have to go. Please rest." Sherlock left without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next week, Halloween Town was swarmed with rumours of a man- a human man- somehow getting through their defences. Surely that couldn't be true, could it? What kind of human could possibly get to them, unarmed to top it off. Perhaps he was trained, could the humans know about them? Was this the end?

Gregory Lestrade didn't really think much of the supposed 'Trained Killer Assassin' John Watson, as he had been dubbed. He just looked like a nice man in a jumper, a little confused and prone to fainting, maybe, but not dangerous. He tried telling anyone who would listen, but being a year old meant no one really trusted your opinion.

"He's dangerous, that's what I know." Anderson muttered, shaking his head.

"How could you possibly know that?" Lestrade asked.

"Because that's what humans are, dangerous. Don't you ever forget it." Anderson warned.

"And don't go over to Mycroft's estate anymore, either." Sally added. "We know where you've been going, don't deny it! If he thinks that he's taking you away, then that freak-"

"Don't call him that!" Lestrade shouted.

"Excuse me?" Sally exclaimed. "Is that how you speak to the people who created you?"

"Who gave you a home? Food? Clothes?" Anderson asked, slamming his fist on the laboratory table. "You ungrateful little-"

"Anderson!" Sally admonished.

"You heard him Sally!" Anderson yelled.

"Don't you dare treat him like that." Sally whispered to Anderson, leaving no room for argument. Anderson gave Lestrade one last threatening look, before stomping up the stairs, the laboratory doors slamming in his wake. Sally turned to Lestrade.

"If I find out that you've seen Mycroft again, Mycroft will never be Mayor again. I'll ensure it." She left Lestrade in the darkness of the laboratory to consider his choices.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

John sat on his bed, face in his hands, shoulders slumped. It was becoming abundantly clear that Sherlock would never let him go. His week had been full of tests an questions, ranging from the most ordinary, "Do you own a car?" to the weirdest,

"Are you able to remove any of you limbs or vital organs?" Noting the scalpel in Sherlock's grasp, he quickly said no. Sherlock had scowled, lamenting "Surely the data that could be collected worth making sure." That led to a ridiculous amount on both sides, until Sherlock had finally conceded that humans generally need lungs to breath.

"The key word is _vital,_ Sherlock!" John had shouted down the stairs. Sherlock had appeared fifteen minutes later with a rather worn out and out of date basic biology textbook.

"Apologies, John. It does appear that you need your organs to live." Said Sherlock, not looking sorry in the least.

That had been yesterday, and Sherlock had gone out to run some tests on his old clothes, and Mrs Hudson had gone to find something edible for him. John stood up from his bed, and slowly crept over to the window, careful on the off chance that Sherlock had left someone to guard him. The world outside his window forced john to recoil back in horror. The place was barren, dead trees and plants dotted the area around the house- which he assumed was supposed to be the garden. The buildings outside leaned over to the side, the doors and windows crooked and cracked. It was the people, however, that caused him distress.

They were dead, surely, incapable of life, the bodies of these creatures often a shallow blue, or purple. The clothes ragged and torn, often hanging off them. Some had fangs, some were as hairy as wolves, and some were indistinguishable as even vaguely human.

He turned around, choking back bitter tears and the urge to scream. They expected to live here for the rest of his life? This desolate land, where nothing grew and the dead somehow walked? That man, that thing, Sherlock Holmes, he did this to him. If he hadn't found him, then perhaps he could have had a chance at getting out of here, getting home. Harry would miss him. No matter what Sherlock had said, harry would hiss him. They were brother and sister, and even after the row, that was what they still were.

John walked back to the bed with a defeated sigh. No. even if she did forgive him, and acknowledged her part in the argument, harry would never find him, not even if she searched for a hundred years.

A red light appeared at the door. John stood up again and backed away, getting into the defensive position. "Who's there?" He shouted, but no one answered him. Instead, the door opened slightly wider, revealing a ghostly pale dog. It floated inside john's room, approaching his bed with fearful curiosity. John shook himself, laughing at his paranoia. He picked up the dog, who took on a sort of physical quality, and john looked at the dog tag. "Gladstone?" John asked. "So, my skeleton kidnapper keeps a ghost dog called Gladstone. What kind of nose glows red?" He put down the dog, whose bright red nose was the only light in the room, bar the dim sunlight which was seen out the window through the thick fog.

Oblivious to john's discovery, the town gathered for another meeting.

AN: apologies for the huge wait, but between my holiday, illness and prelims, I have had no time for anything to do with fan fiction. However, after I have written my last chapter of Adoptive Parenting For Mutants, I'll postpone any new fan fiction until I've gotten to the real plot of this fic. Baring this in mind, this fan fiction is heading into **spoiler territory.** This fiction will now be featuring characters from season two of Sherlock BBC, including Irene Adler and Henry Knight. It will also be featuring characters not yet included in the show, such as Gladstone as seen here, and Sebastian Moran. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and there will be werewolves and vampires featured within this fan fiction, they were some of my favourite characters in the movie! Gotta love Tim Burton, he makes you care about and like the characters who don't even get the most screen time.


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